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Postcards From The Beach

Dear Really Fat Lady,
A white string bikini is not a good idea for anybody at the beach. Period. And that little strip of lining that was made to hide your nether areas? It’s not hiding enough. Please, for the love of everything decent, put on a moo-moo.
The bitch who ran away screaming ‘my eyes, my eyes’ while dragging small children behind her

Dear Dumb Ass with the kite,
If you want to fly your kite, take it somewhere away from small children and bitchy mothers. If you dive bomb my kid again with that thing, I will shove it up your ass and pull it out through your nose. Thank you for prompt attention to this matter.
The bitch who yelled out ‘Hey jackass’ more than one time and then threw sand at you after stomping the shit out of your ugly kite

Dear Old Dude in the Speedo,
Dude. Really? Do we even need to have this conversation? Nobody looks good in a speedo but wearing a bright orange leopard print one at the age of 75 is borderline criminal. If you insist on wearing it, at least make sure you tuck all that shit inside cause nobody wants to see old wrinkly balls hanging out the side. For the love of Pete!
The chick who threw up a little bit in her mouth everytime you walked by with one of your boys flapping in the breeze

Dear Melodramatic Martha,
It’s the beach. There is sand. If you don’t like sand, stay home. Nobody wants to hear you shrieking every five seconds about the sand touching you. Next time leave your weave at home if you don’t want it to get sand in it. Or at least super glue that shit to your head so it won’t fly away.
The bitch who accidentally stepped on your weave for the tenth time after it blew off your head

Dear Queen of Attitude,
I’m terribly sorry that my children’s excitement upon seeing the pirate during dinner disturbed you, but I would be remiss not to mention that you chose to eat dinner at an establishment known for it’s huge kids bar. Huffing, puffing and rolling your eyes at the children was incredibly tacky and unnecessary. If you didn’t want to eat dinner near children, perhaps you should have thought more carefully about your choice of restaurant. The next time I catch you huffing and rolling your eyes at my kids I will be throwing something a lot harder than a dinner roll at your head.
The bitch that beaned you in the back of the head with the dinner roll and then laughed out loud when it got stuck in all that hairspray

Dear Mother Nature,
63 degrees outside, windy and rainy? Really? Was it not enough that you had to send my monthly gift a whole five days early so I could enjoy it while on vacation at the beach? You also had to send the sandstorms, the thunderstorms and the flu? Really? Step off bitch, you’re testing the limits of my patience.
The cranky, cold bitch wearing the cashmere sweater at the beach in May while cursing your name

Dear Clueless Ass Crack Monkey,
In case you didn’t notice, we were trying to take a picture of our four children on the beach. I’m not sure why you thought that we would like your gigantic ass smack in the middle of our family picture. I feel perfectly justified in telling you that the next time you bend over and give me a crack shot when I’m taking a picture of my four babies, I will plant my foot in the middle of your ass and knock you face first into the ocean. I’m just sayin‘. Don’t say you weren’t warned.
The bitch who yelled ‘For the love of Pete, move your ass’ at the top of her lungs and then kicked sand in your direction

Dear Elderly Honeymooners,
I understand that you are newly married and enjoying your honeymoon. I’m just not sure why the rest of us must hear you enjoying your honeymoon. I’m betting that you don’t know just how thin these walls really are. If you did, you might be a little more careful about what you’re yelling out in the heat of the moment. ‘Go Daddy go, bring me on home Big boy’ is not something I need to hear when I’m nursing my child. Actually it’s not something I need to hear ever. I should probably also address the headboard banging on the wall. Repeatedly. What are you people? Rabbits? Give it a rest, will you? Tell ‘Daddy’ to put down the Viagra and go hit the beach for awhile. We couldn’t even look you in the eye when we passed you in the hallway today. Awkward, isn’t it?
The totally skeeved out people in the next room who don’t like to think about their parents having that much sex, let alone their grandparents


This is my first Monday participating in MckMama’s blog carnival. Her Not Me! Monday posts always make me giggle so I thought I’d give it a shot.

When talking to a school psychologist this week, I most certainly did not use the word dick and I certainly did not imply that I would encourage my son to use that word in school. That would be bad parenting. Not Me!

When taking photographs for Kelly’s Show Us Where You Live tour, I definitely did not transfer the clutter from one room into another room just for the pictures and I really did not move it all back when I was done instead of just putting it away. Because that would be lazy. Not Me!

When out in public with people Matt knows from his work, I most certainly did not slip up and call him by his blog name instead of his real name. And I absolutely did not do it three times in one conversation. That would be embarrassing. Nope. Not Me!

When we got home late one evening from a school function, I did not send Ty to bed without a desperately needed shower. And I definitely did not tell him to just spray on some of his dad’s TAG the next morning before school. No way. That would be bad hygiene. Not Me!

When Mase woke up with a high fever and was unable to go back to sleep, I definitely did not just bring him in bed with us and pop a boob in his mouth. And I certainly did not allow him to just remain latched on, thus becoming a human pacifier for the remaining four hours of the night so I could get a few more hours of sleep. That would be creating a really bad habit. Not Me!

When in the midst of a May Monsoon this week, I absolutely did not lay down a puppy pad on the floor for Bailey so I didn’t have to go outside in the rain to walk him. And I definitely did not do it four more times that day. And I certainly would never hide the evidence from Matt and then giggle when he took Bailey out in the Monsoon, muttering obscenities under his breath. That would be mean. Nope. Not Me!

I hope you enjoyed my Not Me! Monday confessions. Believe me, there were more but I think stopping at six is a good idea. No need for everyone to know how dysfunctional I really am, let’s keep some of the mystique shall we?

Have a few confessions of your own? Head on over to MckMama’s and join in on the fun. Come on, we’re all friends here. I promise not to think any less of you. And coming from the person who used dick in school conversation and then cackled at Matt in the rain, that’s saying something.

Dear Stage Mom

Dear Stage Mom,

I understand that you are excited about your daughter presence in Ballet class. I’m excited too. However, the other Ballet mom’s and I think that we need to have some guidelines for the behavior of the parents of the little Ballerinas. Today got a little out of hand. I’m sure that once the swelling goes down, you will agree.
The first issue that we need to address is your bitchiness sense of superiority. I understand that your husband has a great job. I understand that your oldest Ballerina is brilliant, wise beyond her years and will probably win the Nobel peace prize by the age of 10. I understand that your youngest child is uber talented in all things and is most definitely a genius. I understand that you take full responsibility for molding your family into the genetically superior specimens that we saw before us today.

Really, I get it.

The constant chatter about what an amazing job your husband has is incredibly annoying insensitive to those who are not as fortunate these days. I’m sure we are all so happy that you just bought a brand new house and 2 brand new cars. Whoopee. Really. Equally annoying is the way you must work into Every. Single. Conversation. that your children are perfect. I have four of them. No child is perfect. So shut up already. The other Ballerina mothers are perfectly content to be raising our inferior children thankyouverymuch. Just refer to us as The Inferior Breeders from now on if that will help you to feel more superior in our presence.
The second issue that makes the inferior breeders want to kick your ass should be mentioned is your nasty habit of talking about children other than your own. It is not appropriate to ask another mother if her child has been tested for autism. It is equally inappropriate to insist that an energetic child must have ADHD. Have you no manners? Down here in The South, it is considered bad manners to suggest, imply or downright diagnose a child other than your own with a behavior or psychological condition. Doing so will get your ass kicked by a pack of angry mothers. Along the same line, we do not need to hear how your daughter skipped a grade and is now in the gifted program. Just a FYI, for the future, skipping Kindergarten and proceeding directly to first grade at the age of 6 is not considered skipping a grade. And when you force your child to skip Kindergarten because you decided that the teacher was unable to cope with your child’s intelligence and the other children in the class were not as bright as your child….well that’s just called parental denial. This does not make your child gifted. This makes your child a social pariah among her classmates. Just so you know.
The third, and perhaps most important, issue that needs to be rectified immediately is your behavior towards the children during Ballet class. The Inferior Breeders other mothers all understand that your child is particularly graceful and well suited to be a ballerina. In case we missed the All Points Bulletin that you issued about this, it would be totally obvious by the beautiful leap your child executed during class. Don’t let the fact that she slammed into the wall with her face stop you from singing praises about her talent. Really. Now let me be very clear about this next point. THE ONLY CHILD YOU ARE ALLOWED TO TALK ABOUT IN BALLET CLASS IS YOUR OWN. It is not okay to dissect the mistakes that the other ballerinas are making. It is not okay to call out suggestions to the other ballerinas. It is not okay to roll your eyes and make huffing noises at the other ballerinas. And it is most definitely not okay to yell out to your daughter that ‘she is so much better than the other ballerinas’. Not okay. Not even a little bit. Equally inappropriate would be telling the Inferior Breeders other mothers that they should spend a little time practicing with their children. They are 4 years old. Ballet class is supposed to be fun. Stop making it unfun. You’re a fun killer. I do have to admit that watching you sprain your ankle while trying to demonstrate the proper way to execute the leap was the high point of my day. For Real. I suppose I should apologize for the giggling fits disguised as coughing fits that the Inferior Breeders other mothers were suddenly struck with. I should but I won’t because let’s just be honest, it was karmic justice. And damn funny too.

In conclusion, stop bragging about your family, stop criticizing other people’s children and stop being the Ballerina Nazi. If I see you roll your eyes at my child again, I will shove that pretty pink tutu down your throat.

The Inferior Breeder that will kick your uppity ass if you so much as look at my kid sideways during Ballet Class again

Anyone Want Oily Anal Seepage?


Anyone at all? Nobody?

After my weekend spent in Swimsuit hell, I decided that I would like to try and lose the rest of the baby weight. It’s not much, but it’s in all the wrong places. Maybe not losing the weight but at least toning up the saggy areas….you know, from my neck to my ankles. I spent a good portion of my morning looking at some weight loss possibilities. The one that caught my eye is Alli. I’d heard about it, heard about the way it supposedly works but never really paid much attention.

Today, I paid attention. It claimed that for every 5 pounds you lose, Alli can help you lose an additional 2-3 pounds. Sounded good. Sounded easy. I kept on reading. When I got to the side effects and product information, I started to giggle. Uncontrollably. The flip side to being a smart ass creative is having a innate ability to visualize the funnier side of life. And boy did I visualize it today. If you happened to be in your local Target this morning and you saw a woman bent over double, laughing her ass off….that was me. Let me share with you what started that giggling fit, straight from the label itself:
Orlistat works by preventing the absorption of some of the fat you eat. The fat passes out of you body so you may have bowel changes. You may get:

  • gas with oily spotting
  • loose stools
  • more frequent stools that are hard to control

Soooooooo……basically what I’m inferring here is that you’ll lose some weight but that won’t really improve your life because you’ll be the one with the oily anal seepage and spontaneous diarrhea. Ooh, sexy! I don’t care how much weight you lose, oily anal seepage and spontaneous diarrhea is a high price to pay, my friends. A high price indeed. And let’s just face it, oily anal seepage just ain’t comin‘ out of the sofa cushions.
Plus, it’s not cheap. $60 a bottle. For oily anal seepage and spontaneous diarrhea. Seems a little expensive, doesn’t it? A bottle of cheap tequila and some tainted fish would accomplish the same thing for much cheaper. Plus Ciguatera Fish Poisoning comes with the always fun side effects of blurry vision, temporary blindness, severe itching and reversal of hot and cold sensations. Now that sounds like the recipe for a good time. You’d be the life of the party. I think I’ll stick to badgering Mr.McHunky to buy me a Wii and Wii Fit. No oily anal seepage and spontaneous diarrhea for me, thankyouverymuch.

As a side note, I can’t wait to see what Google keyword searches bring people to this post. If you’re here because you are suffering from oily anal seepage and spontaneous diarrhea, you have my utmost sympathies. And if you suffer from these things due to Alli, then you’ll have to excuse my giggling. I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing with you. What? You’re not laughing? Technicality. One day you’ll look back on this and laugh.
Right after you pay off your new sofa.

When Beauty Goes Wrong


Spring is fast approaching and I am oh-so-damn-happy to get rid of these winter blahs. I’m tired of sweaters, coats and frostbite. I have had enough. Do you hear me bitch Mother Nature? Enough. Spring means pretty skirts, fashionable sandals, and gulp…..self maintenance. Sigh….. But springtime also brings a whole nother set of problems. I can’t go out in public with unshaven legs and translucently white skin- it’s uncouth and my mother would die a million deaths from shame.

Spring is also the time of year that tends to make me do things to my hair. I don’t know if it’s a mixture of boredom, snow induced insanity or alcohol the promise of warmer weather, but I always end up with some new disaster hairstyle that looked great in the picture. I end up forking over a fortune to my hairstylist, who tried to talk me out of this particular style in the first place, just to come home and contemplate shaving my head bald. I come home sobbing to Matt that I look like Posh Spice without the posh or the spice. I end up locked in the bedroom, watching reruns of The Drew Carey show and envying Mimi’s hair while scarfing down cookie dough straight from the package.

Every year we go through this ritual. Every year. My friends have similar rituals, it’s not just me. It got me thinking about all the things we women do for beauty. And how so many of those things go terribly, tragically wrong. Most of these tragedies involve beauty enhancements that we attempt to do at home ourselves. This is bad. This normally ends with a lot of crying, screaming and drinking. Valium is often needed to overcome the PTSD that is caused. Mirrors are covered with towels and phone calls are not returned. This is how husbands know that the seasons, they are a changin’. In an effort to stop the insanity, I have put together a little list of common beauty enhancements that women try to do at home.
Consider this a list of Don’t’s:
At home eyebrow waxing– The prospect of being forced to leave the house all spring long with absolutely no eyebrows makes the unibrow seem fantastically fashionable, doesn’t it? This is one enhancement that is best left to the professionals.

At home hair coloring– I love highlights. I’ve seen the highlight kits for $6.99 in the hair coloring aisle at Target. A cheaper person might be tempted by such a large savings. Do not give in. The only thing worse than expecting a subtle shade of auburn and getting Ronald McDonald, is having your hair fall out in clumps. Ronald McDonald with mange is not an attractive look.

At home perms– See at home hair coloring and again, picture Ronald McDonald but this time with curly clumps of mange. Nuff said on that one.

Self tanners– Have you ever seen an orange and white striped zebra? I have….in my mirror, 10 hours after applying self tanner. Some people, I refer to them as The Blessed Few, are great at applying self tanner with no streaks or stripes. Unfortunately, the majority of us end up looking like we have a toxic level of beta carotene in our systems and frankly, that is not a good look for anyone.

There’s one more thing that I must add to the list based on personal tragedy experience. Do not fall in love with a hairstyle that you find in a magazine that is obviously for someone with thicker, thinner, fuller, longer, curlier, or straighter hair. Do not take this picture into your hair stylist and expect her to replicate it on your head. She is not a magician. She does not have a magic wand. The only way she will be able to make you look like that is to staple that picture to your forehead. S’rsly. You will end up sobbing in your bed, eating raw cookie dough and watching bad reruns on TV.
Please ladies, I beg of you, heed the warnings. Don’t become a victim of At Home Beauty Enhancements.
Thank you for your attention. Public Service Announcement over.

You’re welcome.